Three and a Half
by goodness graceless
Summary: Through an abundance of parenthesis and self-contradictions, Ronald Bilius Weasley determines an appropriate label for Hermione Granger.


**Three and a Half**

_In which Ron contemplates snogging statistics, terms of endearment, offending blankets, stupid prats, and the awkwardness of loving your best friend. Through an abundance of parenthesis and self-contradictions, Ronald Bilius Weasley determines the fate of himself and Hermione Granger. Post-DH, R/Hr._

**Disclaimer: **Disclaimed.

_***_

As time passed, grieving slowly became less painful. Smiles sneaked onto faces that had long since looked happy, hope crept out from dark corners and made itself known once more in a world that had more than once considered giving up, and the gray skies, compliant to the most cliché of pathetic fallacy, were looking more blue with each time the sun rose and set. It had been four months since the Great Battle, and Ronald Bilius Weasley, youngest son of the Weasley family, best friend to the boy who single-handedly defeated the most powerful dark wizard of all time, one third of the Golden Trio, in part responsible for the well-being of the wizarding world itself, had snogged Hermione Granger exactly three and a half times.

Let there be no question, Ron's snogging history had seen much better statistics than this (though he could not give an exact number as to how many times he had snogged Lavender Brown in a single _week_, he thought this fact a testament to his record, and believed it only served to further prove his point). But when Ron looked back at these three times, these three moments of his life (although he would argue himself blue that 'moment' was a terrible understatement) he had only the highest regard for them as possibly the best moments of his life thus far (and found no disappointment when considering the infrequency of their occurrence). Until, that is, one particular day of his 17th living year when he was stuck at the Burrow with only Harry and Ginny for company.

"Oi! Cut that out, would you? Some of us eat to keep the food down, not throw it up a half hour later just because you lot are making up for lost time." He scowled at his sister and his flushing best friend (though you'd think, Ron thought, that if he were really all that embarrassed, he'd have stopped after the second, or third, or _eighth_ sodding time.).

"Oh get off it, ickle Ronniekins, don't be sour just because Hermione isn't here. You should learn to be more dependent, it's a bit awful that you can't manage without your girlfriend for one day, really." As a show of his sincerest annoyance, he scowled as hard as he could at a smirking Ginny, before getting to his feet and trudging away. "Dependent… I am not dependent," he scoffed under his breath as he made his way up the creaky stairs.

So what if Hermione had decided to go shopping with her mum today? Who cares that she had spent all of her free time at the burrow with Ron and Harry and Ginny for months now, and suddenly his--he meant _their_--company did not suffice? He was _not _dependent. He was perfectly capable of enjoying himself without her (because he was of course a man, for Merlin's sake! And a man could get by just fine without any woman's help). Especially since that woman was not even _really_ his girlfriend. Was she? Of course she wasn't. Hermione was simply not the girlfriend type. Hermione Granger did not going about saying to people, "This is Ron Weasley, my boyfriend." Just the thought made Ron's eyebrows furrow together and his top lip twitch upward in a comically bewildered expression. No, calling Hermione his girlfriend simply did not sound right. He shook his head, relieving his face of its confused appearance and continued up the stairs to his bedroom.

So, Hermione was not his girlfriend. Or anyone's for that matter. But, what then, was she? To him, not to anyone (for he refused to consider her being someone else's not-girlfriend, because he had decided that he very much enjoyed her being _his_ not-girlfriend and it was unlikely that he would be as supportive of her being _not _his not-girlfriend, and most certainly not in favour of becoming someone else's not-girlfriend). Was she just his friend still, then? No, because he was sure that having properly snogged someone three and a half times (and he had no qualms accepting that 'three and a half' would eventually turn into _more_ than three and a half) denoted something that was not a simple friendship, because that was why terms like 'boyfriend` and 'girlfriend' existed in the first place (and, more importantly, if that were the case then Lavender would have been the best friend he had ever had and this thought shook him to his very core). He let out a loud sigh, and sat himself down on the edge of his bed, narrowly avoiding the 'C' in 'Chudley' with his bottom (he had cherished his Cannons blanket for as long as he had had it, and was very careful not to objectify its sacredness). He began picking at his fingernails while he sulked about the current status of his possible-relationship with Hermione Granger.

His 'girlfriend' had been ruled out as utterly ridiculous. To call her his 'not-girlfriend' for the rest of his life was just bloody stupid. Well, what else did one call their… significant other? (Ron stopped for a moment to consider dubbing her just that, his 'significant other' but he was quite sure that under no circumstances would Ginny and George let him get away with that free of ridicule.) His main squeeze? He laughed, though slightly disgusted by the phrase. Just his girl? No, Hermione was much, _much_ more than just a girl, and deserving of a name to suit. His lover? The very thought made him blush, and he felt his ears turning red (because as far as he knew, to be someone's lover required a certain show of love in which he had not yet taken part and was embarrassed to think of suggesting this to Hermione just so that she could officially be something to him).

"What else can I bloody well call her?" he suddenly cried to no one, flopping onto his back (because some problems are more important, even, than offending your blanket (and by some, he meant of course very, very few. Likely only this one problem imparticular.).). He could think of nothing else, no other terms of endearment to signify she was someone in which he was engaged… romantically (well, enough to have snogged her exactly three and a half times).

Wait.

Engaged? Would he have to ask her to marry him? (He was surprised to find that considering it did not cause him to break out in a cold sweat, or shake violently, or grow paler than he already was, as he had every time Lavender uttered the words 'together forever.' But nonetheless…) he knew that proposing just so she could officially be his _something_ was out of the question.

Oh no. Suddenly, it dawned on Ron that perhaps… perhaps Hermione did not _want_ to be 'his' anything! Perhaps she had just snogged him three and a half times for the sake of snogging him three and a half times! Perhaps she had only kissed him during the Great Battle because they were about to die, and it was him or a Death Eater! He gulped, and felt himself paling as he ought to have done while he contemplated his proposal. And then, of course, relief washed over his stiff body. Don't be thick you stupid prat, he thought to himself (and was not surprised when Ginny suddenly came to mind as he did so, as this seemed to be one of her favourite things to tell him.) Hermione Granger would _not_ have been thinking about dying without one last snog. She would have been thinking about dying without saying goodbye to her parents; without telling the Weasley's how much she had appreciated them over the years, and grown to love each one of them; without reminding Harry that he was special and should be proud of all he had accomplished no matter what, and that his parents would be proud. These were the things that Hermione would be worried about ceaselessly in the face of her imminent death (although one had to remember the fact that it had not been imminent in the slightest, something Ron was personally rather happy about).

But even with this clarification on Hermione's character, one could not help but realize, that to claim Hermione as something that belonged to him, to suggest her as a _possession_, something that he owned, was not going to work. He was ashamed of himself for being so insistent that she have a title to demean her like that. She would never be _his_ girlfriend, _his_ main squeeze, _his_ lover, _his _fiancée, _his_ wife, _his_ soul mate. Though he had no doubt that she _would_ technically _be_ all of those things (in due time of course, as he was sure one could not be all six simultaneously, perhaps just two or three) he knew that really, she would never be anything other than Hermione (an idea which he would have to phrase better if he planned to vocalize it, for as it was, it sounded to be rather insulting and he was not prepared to be hexed by Hermione, and/or Ginny (he feared the 'and' more than the 'or') for being an insensitive git (or an insensitive boy, if it were to be Hermione).). Hermione Granger was the cleverest witch of her time (though whenever people told her this around him, he was sure to narrow his eyes a bit, because he was sure that she was the cleverest witch of _all_ time, and it was rude to tell her any less) and if it weren't for her, no one could argue that the defeat of Voldemort would not have gone as smoothly as it had. (Ron let this thought pass through his mind before laughing that anyone would consider it 'smooth' anyway.) Hermione Granger would be in the history books, for that and many other things to come. She would be as iconic as Harry Potter (though Ron meant no offence to Harry's ability to accomplish big things, he was after all, Harry Potter). Hermione Granger could be the Minister for Magic if she so chose, and if not, he was sure that whatever she ended up being would be much more suiting than just _his girlfriend. _Hermione Granger was an incredible person, and would amount to much more than having landed a boyfriend like Ron, and despite his admittedly prominent jealous-streak (something he admitted reluctantly, but had admitted nonetheless, a fact that Ginny would never let him forget, he was sure) he was content with the fact that girlfriend to Ron Weasley would be just a small a part of who Hermione was and would be (because even a small part was enough to satisfy him, something he would be careful not to share with the wrong people, because he knew himself that if he heard any bloke say something so wimpy and cheesy, he could not help but laugh).

Suddenly, Ron stood up and marched out of his room (but he had to turn back and straighten out his bedspread as an apology for flopping onto it so violently earlier before he even reached the doorframe). He stomped down the stairs decidedly, and into the living room, where Ginny and Harry still sat in the same position, probably having been doing the same thing since he left (what that 'thing' was, exactly, he would not let himself acknowledge). They were now looking at him curiously, having obviously heard his less than graceful descent down the steps.

"Gin, I'd like to discuss you calling Hermione my girlfriend," he said to her matter-of-factly. She raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Uh, right, okay. Well, isn't she?"

"Only a little." With that, he turned on his heel, and made his way back upstairs, where he would sit and be bored until Hermione came for dinner (because he hadn't even believed himself when he claimed not to need her to enjoy himself.) And after the afternoon he had had, he felt it necessary to bump 'three and a half' up to _at least four (and quite honestly, nothing seemed enjoyable in comparison.)_


End file.
